


Sharp, Pretty Things

by Sophia_Bee



Series: Road Trip Fics [4]
Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-19 11:25:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2386595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophia_Bee/pseuds/Sophia_Bee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Road trip fic of sorts</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sharp, Pretty Things

**Author's Note:**

> Oh look, more road trips!

It was only when she was slouched in his passenger seat, warm wind blowing through her hair that she realized this was where she’d wanted to be all along: not just for the last hours, or the last weeks. She’d wanted this for years. Logan glanced across the car and she smiled at him. He leaned forward and turned up the stereo and Veronica closed her eyes.

She’d had a feeling of unease all night even though it was all over. Her skin prickled and her hands shook a little as she splashed ice-cold water on her skin. She looked in the mirror and a strange face stared back at her; scrapes across the cheek, skin pale, dark circles under her eyes. It was the face of a person who knew too much.

_She’d had too much pain_

Logan was the kind of pain she wanted, sweet and slow, creeping under her skin until she couldn’t distinguish him from pure pleasure. It felt macabre, but she couldn’t help but smile when she opened the door and saw him standing with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his eyes rimmed in red and she knew there were no words for what they’d gone through. He’d reached out and touched her cheek, his fingers making the raw skin sting. She’d winced a little but didn’t pull away, wanting his touch more than she wanted to stop the pain. He took her hand in his, gripping so tight she felt like he would crunch the tiny bird bones in her fingers.

She didn’t even think to protest that she was still in her pajamas as he silently pulled her toward his car.

They drove south, the sun rising over rolling hills, shining through Logan’s hair and he squinted, his eyes crinkling on the sides. Veronica flipped down the visor and pulled out a pair of sunglasses then handed them across to him. He smiled. The road shimmered with heat leftover from the day before and Veronica felt a bead of sweat seep down her hairline and start to trickle down her neck.

They stopped at a roadside mini-mart and Logan grabbed watermelon lollypops off the shelf while she pulled ice-cold bottles of guava Jarritos from the cold case. They leaned on each other while they waited in line, her shoulder pushing into his arm, his skin warm against hers. Then they were back in the car and Veronica swatted Logan’s hand away from the air conditioner. She rolled her window all the way down and watched the dry landscape roll past, the taste of dust thick on her tongue. She chugged down the fizzy-sweet guava soda, her lips sticky with sugar. The sun-warmed leather seared the back of her bare legs and her hand reached out and rested on his thigh. He startled at her touch, glanced away from the road and down at her hand. She didn’t look at him, just left her hand there to remind him that he wasn’t alone.

It was dark by the time they stopped, the air filled with the buzzing of insects and the chattering of rodents as they ventured out of their shelters and into the cooling desert air. Veronica felt Logan’s hand gently shaking her shoulder and she slowly opened her eyes. Her neck was bent at an uncomfortable angle and the leg she’d tucked under her had fallen asleep. She yawned and stretched, pushing her shoulders back into the seat and pointing her toes, then pushed at the handle and swung the door open. The ground was rough under her bare feet, rocks sticking into her soles, dirt between her bare toes. She followed Logan to the manager’s office and rested her head behind one of his shoulders, feeling the cotton of his t-shirt under her cheek. His arm went around her waist as they stumbled toward their room and she leaned most of her weight against him.

The room was worn but clean, a single bed in the middle, a dim lamp sitting on a dark veneered nightstand that would have looked good in Veronica’s grandparent’s house. Logan pulled back the threadbare comforter and Veronica sat down, swinging her legs onto the bed and laying her head on the flat pillow. She opened her mouth to tell him all the things that had been running through her head, but instead she just stared up at him, her body sinking into the mattress, her limbs heavy with weariness. The feeling of Logan’s lips on her forehead was the last thing she remembered before she drifted to sleep and just before the blackness engulfed her she thought she heard him whisper, breath hot against her ear.

_I love you._

Then again, maybe it was a dream.

She woke up with his arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly against his chest, his breathing deep and slow. She lay there for a while, memorizing how his body felt against hers until she felt him stir, shifting his weight against her, felt his lips hot and dry as they grazed the skin of her neck and kissed the slope of her shoulder. His fingers skimmed up her ribcage and settled on her breast and Veronica bit back a gasp at his touch and hissed his name between her teeth.

Breakfast was eggs and spicy sausage and soft homemade tortillas. They stopped at a roadside stand and Logan bought her a tacky tourist t-shirt, shorts, flip-flops and a scratchy polyester bikini. He bought himself a huge straw sombrero and flashed her a cocky smile as he set it on his head, and for a moment it was like old times and she thought she could see Duncan leaning against the car and she swore she could hear the sound of Lilly’s laughter behind her. She turned around, half expecting to see her standing with her hands on her hips, licking her lips and tossing her hair over her shoulders. There was nothing but dirt. Veronica felt the sting of tears and quickly brushed them away; pretending a grain of sand was stuck in her eye. Logan knew she was lying.

Veronica changed in the portable bathroom next to the stand, ignoring the smell of piss and sanitizer mixing together and followed Logan silently to the car. Then they were back on the road, the same desert flashing by, the same cactus and sagebrush struggling to survive in that harsh environment.

This time Veronica drove and Logan slept, his head lolling forward, bouncing with each bump in the road. She dreamed of a different life as the road flashed by. She’d trusted him and his dad hadn’t killed Lilly. She imagined what might have happened if he’d never left that pool house, if he’d stayed with her, his fingers slipping across her skin, his tongue slipping into her mouth. She pretended he’d never said things that hurt her; never spit out words that cut through the thick skin she’d developed and sunk into her tender heart. In her dream they were just Logan and Veronica, maybe in love, at least in lust, burning beautiful and bright.

It felt real.

Lilly. Aaron. They were shiny, pretty things, all gloss and sparkle on the outside, dark and painful on the inside. They were promises, fantasies made up by twelve-year old girls who still dreamed about princes and fairytale endings. They were caricatures, larger than life versions of themselves. They weren’t real.

She and Logan were real. Their pain was always present, displayed on their skin for the world to see. She’d seen Logan’s pain; the look on his face in the hotel lobby as he begged Trina not to reveal what he rarely revealed to himself. She’d felt his pain; the scars across his back as her fingertips grazed his skin. Now she saw the far away look in his eyes as she stared out the window at the desert landscape and she knew he wasn’t with her. He was with Lilly. He was with Aaron. He was watching them fuck in his mind and Lilly was looking at him as Aaron pounded into her, her glossy red lips curled in a cruel smile.

“Why.”

Veronica startled at the sound of his voice, strange and jarring in the silence. It was the first word they’d spoken in the two days. She glanced over at Logan and saw the shine of tears on his cheeks. She slowed the car down and pulled onto the shoulder, leaving a trail of dust behind them.

She wanted to answer him, to explain it in a way that would make him feel better, find a way to talk about it without twisting the truth into something slightly more pleasant. He was staring out the window again and she memorized the way his shoulders sloped, the way he was silhouetted against the sun as it slipped behind the hills.

Aaron and Lilly. They were shards of glass, beautiful and shiny, sparkling in the sun, but when you pick them up they slice through skin, fat and muscle until they found the bright redness of blood, pumping sticky hot from your heart. They would leave you sucked dry, a husk of skin and bone but not much more.

_It was good she was dead._

Veronica’s stomach twisted at the thought because she’d loved Lilly with all her heart and soul. Her love had prevented her from seeing the price they’d all paid for Lilly.

Duncan had paid with his sanity. His life had become a fuzzy version of reality created by drugs and tainted with the misguided family secret that he’d somehow been involved in his sister’s death.

Logan had paid by loving someone who would never love him back in the same way. He’d wanted Lilly to save him, to drag him away from his life, from the pain of the belt and Aaron’s fist, the pain of his mother’s gin-infused oblivion.

Veronica had paid with her innocence, destroyed as she learned the bits and pieces of lies Lilly had woven around their friendship. Lilly had been fun and energy for Veronica but at the price of the truth.

There was no real answer to Logan’s question as they sat in his car on the side of a road that stretched forever into oblivion. At least there wasn’t an answer that Veronica wanted to know because part of her wanted to hang onto Lilly the way she dreamed of her; smiling, alive, the one person who Veronica had always been able to count on.

Instead of the truth she found the easiest explanation she could grasp in her mind, the one that would sound the best, provide answers without any explanations.

“Because some people are just meant to hurt you.”

Strange, Veronica thought as she watched Logan digest her words, the inevitability they carried, the sense of doom, of predestined tragedy. Some people were only in your life to cause ultimate pain, all sparkle and shine with no substance. Maybe her words were true after all, and Veronica repeated them in her head, added her own silent ending as they sat staring at each other, Logan’s hand reaching out to grasp hers, pulling her back from the edge of her memories, reminding her again that she was not alone.

_Because some people are meant to hurt you, but I'm not one of them._

She hoped that would be true.


End file.
